Chapter nineteen:

 

 

I look through Carrie’s CDs, and I realize that I don’t recognize any of them—not a single name or track. And I know that I’ve been away for a long, long time, but I didn’t realize I was so out of the loop on things.

I go through her DVD collection and find the same thing. But I’m more shocked here because there’s no old movies, only new ones. Carrie used to love old movies. Anything with Cary Grant in it was always a winner. I smile at the memory of watching those movies with her. Huddled under blankets and eating popcorn my mom made.

My mom liked Carrie at first. She thought she just needed to be loved. But after a while, she said it was more than that. Worse than that. She said there was probably no saving Carrie.

I hated my mom for saying that for two reasons.

One.

Everyone could be saved if you tried hard enough. And my mom just wasn’t trying hard enough, in my opinion. Carrie’s mom wasn’t trying hard enough either. Carrie’s dad wasn’t trying hard enough. The school wasn’t trying hard enough. The neighbors weren’t trying hard enough. Carrie thought it was funny how everyone wanted to save her unless it required some effort.

I told her it wasn’t funny at all.

Two.

Carrie was loved. By me.

My mom still let Carrie come around and watch movies though. She didn’t stop her from coming around the house for a long time. Not until things got really bad. One day Carrie’s dad turned up at the door. He slammed his fist against it and made the glass shake. I worried that it would break.

Mom answered it and he pushed her aside and she nearly fell over.

He smelled of liquor.

He didn’t even say anything to Carrie. She just stood up and started to leave with him

My mom said that she didn’t have to go if she didn’t want to. That she was cooking a pot roast and Carrie could stay for dinner if she wanted. I begged her to stay. Carrie’s dad gripped her shoulder tightly and glared down at her, but he still didn’t speak. My mom said my dad would be home soon. She said she could call the police. She said Carrie would be safe here, if she wanted to stay. If she didn’t want to go home.

And I begged Carrie to listen.

But she didn’t listen.

And she didn’t stay.

She smiled and walked away with him, and after that Mom said we couldn’t have Carrie in the house anymore because her dad frightened her.

I begged my mom not to be like that. But she wouldn’t listen. And later that night I heard my mom and dad arguing. I sat at the top of the stairs, listening to their quiet argument, only catching words that floated up to me. I didn’t understand most of them. Or maybe I did, but I refused to hear them.

I went back to my room once I heard the verdict. Dad agreed with Mom, that Carrie wouldn’t be allowed inside anymore. “She’s trouble,” they said.

I pushed open my bedroom door and found Carrie sitting on my bed. She was crying. She was hugging her knees to her chest. She looked up when I came in, and then she asked me to hold her. So I did.

I didn’t care what my mom and dad said.

See, Carrie? I broke all the rules for you.

*

I don’t even realize I’m crying until I am. Until the tears are dripping down off my chin and onto the floor at my feet. I peel the bottom of my tee up and wipe my wet face with it. My clothes are hard and dry; they’re uncomfortable, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.

‘Why are you crying?’ she says.

I look up and see that her eyes are open. Her mouth is still covered so I know she didn’t really speak. I know it was just in my head.

“Oh, Carrie, I’m so sorry.” I sob harder. “I don’t like tying you up, but you were hurting yourself.”

I go to her and I collapse to my knees by her side. She mumbles something behind the gag and shuffles away from me.

“Don’t be like that. I just want you to listen. Can you do that for me?” I plead.

But she doesn’t speak. She just stares at me with cold eyes. Her lips still covered by the tape.

I reach for her and she flinches away.

“It’s okay,” I say, “I’m going to take off the tape. Just, don’t scream, okay?”

She nods and I stroke her cheek.

“Good girl.”

I pull the tape slowly. I don’t want to hurt her and I can tell it is. Tears spring to her eyes, and the tape comes off, blood from her cut lip is attached to it. She’s breathing hard, her chest moving up and down as she pants. I can still see her nipples and I wish she would have worn a bra.

“Are you okay? Do you want some water?” I ask, and she nods.

So I pick up the drink, because I thought ahead and brought it hours ago (well done, Ethan), and I raise it to her lips. I put my hand behind her head and support it as she takes small sips of the water. When she’s done she runs her tongue along her bottom lip, feeling the small cut.

“It’s okay, it’s only small,” I say. “Do you want a cushion behind your head? I can do that.”

She nods but still doesn’t say anything, and I really want to hear her voice now, but I don’t want to push her or rush her into anything, so I don’t say that. Instead I grab a cushion and I help lift her head so I can put the cushion behind her head. She looks much more comfortable now. And this is all going much better. (Well done, Ethan.)

“What do you want with me, Ethan?” she finally says. And her voice sounds hoarse from the screaming she did earlier and I feel bad. But I know one day we’ll look back on this and laugh about it.

Hey, remember that time you screamed so loud and your voice made you sound like you were a sixty-a-day chain-smoker? Wasn’t that hilarious?

We’re not there yet. But we will be.

“I found you,” I say proudly. “I told you I would always be with you, and here I am.” I want to stroke her hair, but I don’t. I want to brush it too, because it looks like it’s getting knotty.

“I haven’t seen you in—”

“Twenty years, three months, and seventeen days,” I say.

“Jesus,” she says back.

“I’ve missed you.”

“How did you find me?”

I laugh lightly. “You’re not going to believe this, but it was by total accident. I saw Mr. Fancy Asshole and you the other night. You were getting in a cab together. I was across the road, in the rain. It was dark. You didn’t see me.”

I’m invisible.

I’m a ghost.

I’m the shadow of the man I could have been.

“Mr. Fancy Asshole?” She frowns. “You mean Adam?”

I grit my teeth, my smile faltering. I hate his name. I hate everything about him.

“He’s married, you know,” I say.

She frowns harder. The frown is ugly on her. “I know.”

“And he has kids,” I say, hoping she’ll be shocked by that. Hoping that she’ll prove me wrong because I’m beginning to think she’s as much of an asshole as he is.

She clears her expression of everything and looks at me blankly. “I know.”

“Oh,” is all I can say in return.

I’m disappointed in you, Carrie. I thought you were better than this. Much better. You used to be a good person. Or at least I thought you were. So what happened? Where did the Carrie I know and love go? Did she die all those years back too?

“You can’t keep me here, you know. People will miss me. They’ll come looking for me.” She blinks, and I know she’s lying. “I have friends, so many friends, and they’ll call the police when I don’t show up.”

She’s lying again.

“Are you listening to me, Ethan? Do you hear what I’m saying? People will worry and they’ll come and look for me.”

I smile. And I know that she’s a terrible liar. I’m beginning to get to know this new Carrie, and really, she’s not much different from the old one.

“Stop fucking smiling at me,” she says, her voice filling with panic. “Stop it or I’ll scream!”

Lie, after lie after lie…

“It’s okay to be afraid,” I say, mimicking her words from so many years ago. “That heavy beat of your heart? That just means your living. That you’re alive. But I’ll never hurt you. I’ll always be here. You just have to trust me.”

And I smile again and then she breaks down crying, and I go to her and I hug her, and I rock her in my arms and she sobs and sobs and sobs…